Broken Seasons
by Phantom Gypsy
Summary: "Oh yeah? What if I were…a monster?" Her laughter subsided and she thought quietly for a moment, brushing one of his long bangs out of his face. "Impossible."
1. Unusually Serious

Daisuke seated himself in the chair, a pitiful grin on his face as he listened to the elder man lying in the couch before him. Wiz's little white had cocked to the side and he let out an endearing, soft "kyu."

"Getting old is never easy," Daiki muttered, his face scrunched in pain. "Dark must be laughing. I don't blame him."

Daisuke smiled. "No, he's worried. He cares about you." Then, as an afterthought, "Dark has become unusually serious lately. He doesn't even tease me very much."

"I see."

Somewhere in the recesses of the mind, far from the living, breathing world, a dark angel sat in everlasting silence. He stirred at the sound of his name being mentioned, opening his amethyst eyes to the twilight that surrounded him. On a good day, it was tolerable. On a good day, he could see the beauty in the fading gold hues and the majesty of the encroaching darkness that filled this phantom realm. Sometimes he could even feel a calm breeze, a mere breath of wind that passed from the living world and through his long, violet locks.

But this was not one of those days.

He closed his eyes, letting the voices in the distance fade, no longer wanting to hear their trivial words. Now, the approaching darkness had finally reached him and encased his mind in a memory so ancient and forgotten, he almost didn't recognize it. The golden glow lingered, painfully, as if to mock the dark angel of his even darker fate. The dead calm reminded him of a celestial grave, littered with crying stars, their heavenly lights dimmed by his grief and pain.

All because of the snow.

* * *

**A/N: It's about time I paid tribute to one of my favorite angels =)**

** A brief prologue, if you will. I was inspired on a return journey from the mountains this afternoon, and after recapping some of the DN angel episodes, I can't resist how perfectly it will all fit. If this little intro didn't hint at it, I'll tell you outright: This is not going to be a happy/wholesome story. The best kind ^_^**


	2. Taste of a Snowflake

Rika sat at her Victorian-style writing desk, with its huge oval mirror, bowed wooden legs, and brass handles on the all of the drawers. The entire room was furnished in a similar fashion. A large, four-poster bed lined one wall, adorned with plush, white blankets and netted canopy that flowed down from the ceiling. The second wall was lined with a white armoire inlaid with gold designs, a pristine chaise longue and ottoman, and the writing desk. A pale, lavish rug covered the wooden floor, save for a small section just before the marble fireplace that lay opposite her bed. Like nearly everything else in the room, the mantel was snow white and carved to look like the vines and blossoms of a dozen roses. The fourth wall was comprised of two massive French doors that led out onto the balcony. Gorgeous as the room was, Rika could never understand why her parents insisted on such opulence when it was only a winter vacation house that was used for one month out of the entire year.

The young girl of hardly seventeen was bent over her diary, filling the pages with flowing lines of black ink:

_December 3,_

_ It snowed again last night. The sun reappeared this morning, however, and now the entire world seems to be made of white glitter. The balcony ledge is buried in nearly five inches, I would say. Part of me always dreads returning to this place. It means spending most of the days locked away in a cold house with mother and father, bundled in layer upon layer of sweaters and scarves and you may as well be shackled to the hearths, because there's only a small radius in which the fire warms the air. But the other part of me loves this little sanctuary, this winter peace that quiets the air and brings a certain mystique and tranquility to the world. I wish that_

The French doors suddenly blew open and a brisk wind tossed the silvery curtains up to the ceiling. Spooked, Rika gasped as the winter breeze bit through her lace gown and she shied away from the doors. As if finished with a long sigh, the wind eventually died down, leaving a thin carpet of glistening snowflakes on the floor by the entryway. Rika wrapped her arms around her and slowly walked over to the doors.

_I could've sworn I locked these doors last night. _

Something out in the snow caught her eye and she stopped for a brief moment. Sitting in the drifts of snow out on the terrace was a single blemish on the white world; a lone, black feather.

Her heart gave an extra_ thud _and a soft grin creased her lips. Once across the threshold, she bent down and picked up the feather. She twirled it in her fingers for a moment, admiring its brilliant blue-black iridescence and with each little twirl, her smile grew a little bigger.

"Can Miss Rika come out to play?"

She was cheated out of her breath as she whipped her head around to look for that voice. _His _voice. The dazzling sunlight made it hard for her to see anything but white.

"Dark?"

Feather still in hand, Rika wandered over to the balcony ledge, forgetting to worry about the freezing snow that was covering her bare ankles. "Dark, where are you?"

Something heavy landed behind her and a swift pair of black wings had suddenly wrapped themselves around her tiny frame.

"Here," he whispered into her ear and entangled one of his hands into hers.

Rika giggled. "You know, you really shouldn't go around breaking into people's homes like that. They might think you're a thief or something."

"Heh. That's ridiculous." He pulled her closer. Trapped in his embrace, she watched as one of his long, violet strands of hair whipped past her face. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere we want."

She felt the warmth of his body leave her and a second later, she was alone again, standing at the edge of the balcony as the gust from his wing beat whirled the snow around her.

Feeling as though she had wings herself, Rika rushed back inside and threw open the doors of the armoire. In record timing, she had herself layered better than most wedding cakes, shoved on her boots, and raced down the steep stairs into the foyer.

"Shinji!" she hollered down the hallway as she threw on her favorite wool hat. "I'm going out for a bit, ok?"

The kind-faced butler with a stoop in his shoulders appeared around the corner.

"Oh? Might I ask where you'll be going?"

"Just for a walk. The snow's so pretty and I thought it'd be a nice chance to enjoy the sun, too."

He smiled, making the wrinkles in his face deepen to the size of small canyons. "Be sure to dress warm, then. And be careful—some of the sidewalks are slippery with ice."

"I will."

"Your mother will want you home before supper. No later than five thirty, I would imagine."

"Yes, Shinji." She flashed him a quick, pretty smile before wrenching open the heavy oak door and disappearing outside. Shinji shook his head. A single, black feather floated to the floor in the blustery wake of her aftermath.

"Ah," he chuckled. "So that's it."

* * *

Rika sprinted—or rather, tried to—through the woods, but was more often than naught slowed by the massive drifts that slowed her light-footed frolicking to an exhausting plod. The pine tree branches hung heavy and low with the glimmering powder of last night's winter rain and the occasional boulder that had fallen down the mountain side looked as though it had been delicately sprayed with icing. Frosted icicles replaced the waterfalls that had once trickled down the rocky slopes and rivers moved slowly beneath frozen embankments of pillow-like snow. Surrounded by such beauty, Rika forgot about the cold that was making her cheeks turn brilliant pink or the laborious trek through the snow. Instead, she was laughing.

She had just enough time to see the shadow overhead before a strong pair of arms grabbed her around the waist and a curtain of ebony feathers blurred her vision. Dark chuckled as he fell backwards into a particularly deep drift of snow beneath a pine tree, taking Rika with him. Out of breath, Rika lay on his chest for a moment and gazed up at the sunlight filtering through the snowy branches above them.

"I win," he said.

"You sure?" she asked slyly and turned around so that was lying on top of him, face to face. "Maybe I planned on being caught."

Doing her best to ignore his little frown, she took a handful of snow in her glove and eyed it thoughtfully before taking a deep breath and blowing it all into the angel's face.

"Rika!"

Laughing, she scrambled out of his embrace and started running again, darting between light and shadow in the wintry forest. Rika looked back over her shoulder once. The angel was gone.

The game of tag went on for nearly an hour, with Dark diving in from the sky to catch his beloved and always he let her escape at the price of a handful of snow or a kiss, if he was quick enough to snatch it.

When Rika's path led her to a snowy meadow, she scanned the skies for any dark silhouettes before dashing out into the open. She hadn't gotten very far before she could hear the impending whoosh of giant wings behind her and with a sudden plummet of her heart, she was being lifted off her feet and into the sky. Dark's cheek brushed hers and his hands locked themselves around her torso. They climbed higher and higher into the cold air, above the meadow and the nearby hills, eventually gliding alongside the massive mountain faces. The deep thumping of Dark's wings made her heart batter against her chest and she clutched tightly to his enveloping forearms. They skimmed the snow-dusted tops of the pine trees until the ground fell away beneath them as they passed over a sheer cliff face. Rika felt the angel begin to steer them downwards.

"Dark!"

The scream that escaped her was lost to the wind. The rocks on the mountainside raced past them as they flew faster and faster. She could feel Dark brimming with exhilaration as he tucked his wings inward, hurtling them down into the valley. Rika shut her eyes, but the wind still managed to steal tears as they plunged ever faster into the white basin.

After what seemed like an eternity of free falling, Dark released his wings again and they slowed to a peaceful glide along the surfaces of a winding river. Rika opened her eyes again, relieved to find they were not frozen shut. Dark eventually brought them to an embankment and carefully brought Rika to the ground. Her feet landed so gently, she wasn't sure she was even on the ground until he let go of her.

"Sorry," he said, turning her around to face him and rubbing his hand against her cheek. "I got a little carried away."

Rika shook her head and smiled. "No, don't be! It was amazing!" She giggled at her steaming breath. "But…I think my face is frozen."

"Oh, Rika." He pulled her in again. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to have fun and make you happy."

"You did." She pulled her head away from his chest and looked up into those bewitching amethyst eyes. Never in her life had she ever seen anything more beautiful than the angel standing before her. "You do."

Dark grinned, his heart flooded by a warmth he had never known before. He let his forehead fall onto hers.

"Rika."

He kissed her, letting his warm mouth envelop her lips for a long moment. The cold vanished and the graceful brush of his lips soothed the bitter sting of their wintry flight. Dark gently began to pull away, but Rika followed until their lips met again. Using his hand on her back to press her closer, he kissed her again, moving his mouth to savor the taste of every snowflake on her rosy lips. Her tiny, frosted breaths grew stronger and she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, lost in the gentle caressing of his warm, velvet mouth. Dark ran his fingers along her delicate jaw line and tilted her head ever so slightly so he could deepen the kiss. Rika yielded to him and a slow burning fire filled her veins; a fire she fed back to him with her own lips.

Eventually, he slowly withdrew and simply stared down into those rich, caramel eyes. Rika brought her hand up to his face and slowly trailed her petite fingers down his nose, his lips and down onto his vest. He chuckled.

"What?"

"Your cheeks sure are red."

Rika laughed. "Well, they're not frozen anymore."

* * *

**A/N: I have to admit, I may have fallen in love with Dark for a moment while writing this chapter. **


	3. Fall From Grace

**A/N: I cannot tell you how pleased I am with this chapter. It makes me so HAPPY! =D **

* * *

Rika frowned at the chess set in front of her and tried to ignore Dark's touch as he ran his fingers through her hair. She was glad he was lying on the bed while she was on the floor, her back facing him so he couldn't see her struggling to outmaneuver his black chess pieces that dominated the board. She chided herself as she claimed his knight with a rook.

_I should've known better than to challenge Dark. He's a thief! Strategy games are his forte._

She'd played chess with the angel before, but since a true wager had been established tonight, neither of them was willing to lose.

Dark grinned at her move. He was lying on his stomach with his chin rested atop his forearm and one, giant wing slung over the edge of the bed, while the other was folded comfortably atop his back. He withdrew his hand from the strand of Rika's hair he'd been playing with. With a silent command of his fingers and a trace of magic, he made the black bishop glide across the board to a new tile, as if of its own accord.

"Checkmate."

"What? How?"

Rika looked over the board twice, dismayed to find that he was right, and then looked back at Dark. The firelight from the hearth played within his eyes, reminding her of the way the planets glowed in the night sky, surrounded by an inky abyss. He winked at her.

"I say we play two out of three," she quickly suggested.

He chuckled. "No, you promised."

"Dark—"

"You said that if I won, you would give me a kiss for every one of my pieces left on the board. And—" He stretched his neck out to count. "I believe you owe me 11."

Rika said nothing and tried not to smile as she stared down his mischievous gaze.

"Why so stingy?" he said as a grin started to crack across his face. "Ya know, if you're gonna be that unwilling about it, I'm sure there's plenty of other girls that would die to be in your place right now. I could just ask them."

Rika crawled over to the bedside and craned her neck up so that she could reach him face to face. "You could."

"But you have to give me at least one."

"Just one?" she whispered, leaning in closer until the tips of their noses brushed together.

"Don't do that."

Rika smiled. His eyes were closed. "Why?"

"Because…it makes me forget what I was talking about."

"Something witty and charming, I'm sure."

She finally let her lips brush against his, tantalizing him with the feel of her breath on his skin. Reaching up into his violet locks, she gently pulled him down onto her mouth so she could feel every soft contour of his lips, every contraction of muscle, as he politely demanded more of her kiss with each breath he took.

A knock came at the door.

"Miss Harada, may I come in?"

Dark growled, "No."

Rika smiled and pulled away. "Yes, Shinji."

The kindly butler ushered his way into the room and upon seeing Dark, his crooked spine straightened a little.

"Oh. Mr. Dark. Good evening to you, sir."

Dark cupped his chin in his hand and gave up on not trying to look put out. "Hey, Shinji. How's it goin'?"

"Well, thank you. Yourself?"

Dark threw his hands behind his head and flopped himself backwards on the bed with a heavy sigh. "Eh, no complaints."

"Very good, sir. Rika, your father has asked me to remind you that you'll be leaving early in the morning—no later than seven. He suggests you get a good night's rest."

Rika's eyes fell down onto the flames that were reflected on the wooden floor. "Oh. I see. Thank you, Shinji."

Dark sat up again. "Leaving? Where are you going?"

She turned around and spared him an unconvincing grin. "Father wants me to go skiing with him tomorrow."

"Skiing, huh? That'll be fun."

She fiddled with one of the pawns on the chessboard. "I'm not very good at it. And what if father gets frustrated with me?"

"Nonsense," Shinji said. "You're not going to be the only novice out there. And your father's going to be thrilled to teach you everything he knows. It is one of his favorite sports, is it not?" She nodded. "So let him teach you and then try your best. That's all he can ask of you."

"Sure."

Dark watched her very carefully, unconvinced by her tone.

"Is there anything I can get you? Cider or hot chocolate perhaps?"

"Thank you, Shinji," Rika said and stood, brushing the dust from her lace nightgown. "But I think we're both fine for now."

With a twinkle in his eye and a small grin, Shinji gave a little bow of the head towards the young mistress and then turned to Dark.

"It was good to see you again, Mr. Dark."

"Hey, don't let this one work you too hard." He pointed at Rika.

"Of course not sir. Good night."

Rika said nothing after the butler had left. Instead, she faced the fire and braided her long hair together with a crimson ribbon.

Dark watched. "Is your father home?"

"Mhm. He's probably downstairs having a cigar with his brandy, like he always does."

"And he couldn't come upstairs to tell you goodnight? Seems like a pretty lame excuse."

Hearing the bitterness in his voice, she turned around and grabbed hold of one of the corner posts of the bed, hugging it tightly.

"Not everyone is going to treat me as well as you do Dark, but that doesn't mean they're wrong or make them bad people."

"Not bad, huh? Then why don't you want to go with him tomorrow?"

Those meek, brown eyes had a way of puncturing of his lungs so he couldn't breathe properly and his eyes were so deeply alluring, like precious jewels, Rika couldn't focus on anything else. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, then changed her mind. Instead, she crawled up onto the bed and sat in front of him. He watched as she played with the white ruffles on the hem of her shift.

"When I turned six years old, father bought me my first horse. He was so excited for me that within five minutes, he had the pony saddled up and we went to the paddock for my first riding lesson. I remember he was riding this huge black stallion; I was deathly afraid of that animal. My father would parade around in the arena and instruct me from his saddle. He'd say, 'put your hands here,' 'you're holding your reins too high,' 'keep your heels down,' 'watch your back—keep it long and straight!' And all I could get my horse to do was go backwards or toss its head. At some point my father—fed up with me, I'm sure—brought his stallion over and scolded me for not trying. He said, 'I didn't go out and buy you a prized show pony so you could sit and braid its mane all day. Now I expect you to ride and ride well!'

"I don't know how long we were out there for—both of our horses were foaming at the mouth towards the end. To this day, I don't exactly remember what happened, but my pony suddenly reared and bucked. I fell forward, over its head, and landed hard in the dirt. I'll never forget the look on my father's face. He didn't say anything. He just glared at me from his saddle, then turned his horse around and walked away."

Dark sat in silence for a while, his eyes transfixed on Rika's profile.

"Rika," he said. "Three years together and you've never told me about this. Why?"

She shrugged. "I guess to be honest, I don't really like to think about it. It's not that I don't want to go with him tomorrow. I just don't want to disappoint him. Again."

Dark took himself by surprise when he snorted. "Well, if you ask me, your father needs a good, swift kick in the—"

"Dark!"

"What? It's worked for a lot of people I know." She was smiling again. He opened his arms and leaned back against the sea of pillows on her bed. "Come here."

Drawn to those eyes that looked as though they were carved from pure amethysts, Rika obeyed and crawled over to that bewitching little grin.

"Aren't you supposed to be playing thief tonight?" she asked as she nuzzled herself into the space between his neck and jaw.

"Eh, maybe another night. It's not like the statue's going anywhere."

Rika smiled and felt his massive wings engulf her in a warm, satin-like blanket. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand.

"Rika?"

"Hm?"

"I would never hurt you, or get angry at you."

She closed her eyes. "I know, Dark."

"And if I can find a way to keep you forever, I will."

Her eyes snapped open. As the tears began to burn their way up her throat, she twirled one his long strands of hair in her fingers.

_Dark…_

"Don't," she whispered. "I don't like to think about that either."

"Neither do I, which is why I decided that it doesn't have to be like that."

Rika let his words brush past her ear without a second thought. "It's not fair to Daiki. We can't cheat him out of his life just so we can be together."

Dark smirked. "Well I don't think it's fair that I gotta give up what I have for his life, either. But what if there was a way around that little detail?"

He parted his wings for her so she could sit up and face him. "Is there?"

Dark closed his eyes and threw his hands behind his head again, looking very smug. "We're workin' on it. Daiki and me, that is. We figure if there's a way for magic to bind us together, there's gotta be something out there that can separate us."

Rika frowned. "But is Daiki ok with this? I know he's very close to you."

"He's the one that came up with the idea, Rika. Think how perfect everything would be; he would have his own life, but we'd still be friends and we could even go thieving together. I would have my own form and I'd be able to live by my own rules and act of my own free will. And we could have each other. Everyone wins. It's not like we don't think these things through."

"But you could get hurt. Both of you."

Dark gave her an exasperated look. "Ya know you could at least act a little excited."

"Sorry," she said, head bowed and fingers hovering over her mouth. "I am. There's nothing more I'd want more in this world than to spend the rest of my life with you, Dark. It just…it all seems too good to be true."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." He stretched his arms out wide. "But here I am!"

Rika grabbed one of the nearest pillows and threw it in his face. "You big-headed buffoon!"

Dark reacted immediately, his lighting-quick hands reaching up to grab her by the waist and pull her onto his chest. Her half-hearted struggling was weakened still by her bell-like laughter.

"Buffoon? Boy, I must've really taken a fall from grace; from angel to ape."

"Ape, angel…I'd love you either way," she giggled.

"Oh yeah? What if I were…a monster?"

Her laughter subsided and she thought quietly for a moment, brushing one of his long bangs out of his face. "Impossible."

"But if I were?"

"Then I would work that much harder to stay by your side, because I can't imagine standing by anyone else."

She ended the thought with a soft kiss on the lips. She could feel him melt beneath her, his wings ruffling as he folded them over her back, locking them in their embrace. He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek as she slowly pulled away.

"I love you, Dark."

If he returned those words, he knew the moment they'd leave his mouth there would be no stopping his own tears. So, instead,

"Two down. Nine to go."

* * *

A vast presence filled the dark hallway, the way a scream can overpower a room and then haunt it for days. Colossal, white wings lowered the angel onto the floor and he silently glided over to the pedestal that housed the small golden statue shaped like an ornate, prickly star. He glared at the artifact with hard, amber eyes that seemed to catch light when there was none to be had.

"So…is that how it's going to be?" he cooed to the darkness. "Is she really so prepossessing that she's more important than me?" He started to encircle the display case, his eyes still locked on the safeguarded treasure. "I'm offended, Dark Mousy. Yet nevertheless…" He raised a gloved hand towards the statue. It floated upwards, hanging perfectly still in midair while its edges began to radiate a dull glow. The star began to quiver as the glow grew brighter. With each passing second, soft gold light turned into a blistering orange fire until the flames evaporated into a blinding white light. The artwork trembled so badly it rose and fell within its case, screaming wordlessly as the white blaze consumed it.

"This just means we have to modify the game a little."

With an almost audible cry, the star detonated and the display case shattered into millions of miniature shards, glittering blue and white as they fell upon the black floor. Like stars.

Krad lowered his hand. "To remind you where your true priorities lie."

* * *

**A/N: *explodes* **

** Something I wanted to mention-I realize Dark is sometimes out of character, but trust me when I say there's a reason for it. Remember, this is two generations before Daisuke, and I imagine him being very courteous and chivalrous towards his true love-not the flirtatious, playboy we know him to be later on. Not yet ^_^**

**I hope you like it as much as I do! Now things get interesting! =D **

**Love, PhantomGypsy **


	4. Fracture

Rika slid down the hill, trying to impale her poles in the snow for balance as she crossed the tips of her skis together, like her father told her to do. Several skiers dashed past her, sending a spray of white powder onto her face that froze her nose and mouth. The sudden shock of cold made her lose her balance and she fell into a deep embankment with a grunt. Staying upright was hard; finding the resolve to pick herself up for the ninetieth time and try again was even harder.

She was still sitting in the snow when her father glided up to her.

"Better. Remember, keep your back hunched; you won't be so top heavy that way. And let up on your poles; it's hard to ski down a hill when you've got sticks digging into the ground the entire time."

"Yes, Father."  
She tried to recollect herself and stand, ignoring the exhausted pains that were shooting through her legs at this point. Seeing her downtrodden face, her father gave a heavy, irritable sigh and said,

"Maybe we should call it quits for the day. Head down to the lodge and grab a hot cocoa. Hm? What do you think?"

Rika looked up at her father. "I'd like that," she said meekly.

"All right then. Meet you at the bottom of the run."

He peeled away effortlessly and glided down the rest of the hill, leaving Rika perplexed as to how to reach the bottom of the slope before her father became impatient.

_Maybe I should just walk. _

A massive, ear-shattering crack ripped through the air, making Rika drop to her knees. Every skier on the hill tumbled into the snow like stunned flies and the chairlifts suddenly halted, swaying precariously on their cables. Rika could feel the mountain quake beneath her; as if thunder and lightning had simultaneously split through the mountainside. Her head was still ringing from the deafening bang, but a series of screams managed to reach her hear.

Glancing behind her, Rika's heart plummeted. Great plumes of white were rushing down the mountain like rapidly evolving storm clouds. The trees disappeared beneath the monstrous avalanche. The snow tumbled faster and faster and Rika watched in horror as black specks of people were swallowed by the roaring, white wave. As the avalanche grew closer, the trees around her began to shake, as if in fear of their approaching doom.

Rika tried to stand, fell, and desperately scrambled to her feet again, but the deep powder was chaining her to the ground, determined to hold her until the freefalling mountainside claimed her. The snow hurtled with terrifying speed and Rika watched in horror as her bellowing death sped towards her. She didn't even have time to take a breath to scream before darkness and cold took her.

* * *

She was cold.

As she began to stir, Rika could feel the tiny ice crystals of snow scratching against her cheek. Her head was pounding and she couldn't feel her fingertips, but as she opened her eyes and started to sit up, she realized she was otherwise unharmed. She pushed herself upright and looked around at the small forest clearing she was in. Most of the snow was untouched and there wasn't a single sound to be heard; a strange thing compared to the deadly thunder she remembered hearing last. Not a creature stirred, not even a bird to be seen flitting about the evergreen branches.

"You're finally awake."

Rika jumped and turned to face the voice behind her. Leaning against a tall pine was a blond man dressed in a strange, white trench coat trimmed with gold. A single, long strand of golden hair fell in front of his face, dividing his face in half. The rest of it was pulled back in a long ponytail that reached his boots and spiked haphazardly about his head. Not unlike Dark's.

He opened his eyes on her and Rika felt as though she'd been pierced through the heart with a spear; fierce, golden eyes that, for all of their glimmering amber and warm honey hues, held no warmth.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Harada."

Rika stopped breathing. Behind him was a giant pair of wings as white as the snow.

"You're…you're Krad."

The angel looked unimpressed. "You know my name."

She struggled to make her cold lips move. "Dark mentioned you." She waited for him to say something, but he only continued to coldly stare at her, his glare darkening with each passing second. "Did you save me?"

A wicked half-grin passed his lips. "Yes, I did."

"Oh. Thank you." She couldn't exactly understand why her skin was crawling at the sound of his voice, or why she felt that "thank you" was the not the right response.

The angel walked towards her, the tips of his wings dragging in the snow. He reached down to her and let his gloved fingers stroke the underside of her chin. Rika looked up at him, confused.

_Those eyes. _Krad scowled at the brown eyes that had been haunting him for the past three years. Reminding himself to keep his touch gentle, he caressed the side of her jaw.

"Tell me, Miss Harada, do you know how Dark and I came to be?"

Rika blinked. "I—I think so. Both of you were part of an artwork made by the Hikari family. When they tried to bring the artwork to life, you and Dark were created. Right?"

"Such a smart girl," he cooed. "Did you also know that our existence is a curse? A curse to the Hikari and Niwa families…and a curse to Dark and I."

Rika's mouth went dry. "What do you mean?"

"Dark and I are one in the same. Since we are two halves of a whole, we are forever bound to the other. We are never truly independent…always tied by the other's thoughts, tendencies. And emotions." He paused long enough to burn his gaze into Rika's, until the young girl thought she couldn't stand it anymore. "You and Dark have become close lately," he said softly. "Haven't you?"

A fresh wave of shivers racked her spine and Rika forced herself to stand and back away, no longer wanting his gloved hand lingering on her face.

"We—we've always been close."

"You love him," he said. "I know. I can feel it."

"…can you?"

"You know what else I've noticed?" He began encircling her and each ensuing word dripped from his lips like venom. "He doesn't fulfill his role of thief as much anymore. He's grown soft and weak. You've taken him from me; from the world."

"I never meant to—"

"But you have. And I can feel how every time his heart beats it beats for you. Every breath he takes is so that he can whisper a sweet, honeyed word into your ear. And every moment he spends in the mind of his tamer is patiently endured for the promise of seeing you. I know, because I feel these things as well."

Rika became aware of his chin practically resting on her shoulder, his lips only a hair's breadth away from her ear. Not daring to move, she whispered,

"What can I do?"

She couldn't see the dark, sinister grin that separated the angels from the demons.

"Love me." His lips grazed her jaw and Rika bolted from his grasp. When she was convinced she was out of his reach, she wheeled around and gave him an incredulous look.

"What?"

"You can't love only half of someone. Then it wouldn't be called love. You can either accept that I am Dark's other half and love us both, or you will not have him at all."

"But what about the past three years? Why would you say this now?"

"Because now I can no longer barricade my feelings against his. Not only have you bewitched Dark's mind and heart, but you have stolen mine as well. You cannot ask me to ignore that."

"Dark—Dark would've said something."  
Krad smirked. "You think so? You think he would've risked his precious romance with you by telling you that you would have to face another man? Dark is a thief, Miss Harada. He's not in the habit of explaining such things. He is accustomed to taking what he wants, at whatever the cost most convenient to him."

Rika shook her head but her bottom lip quivered. "No. Dark would never—"

"What proof do you have?" he snapped.

"He told me. He said he would never make me angry or hurt me. And I believe him."

"Do you?" The blond angel was grinning again. "You believe in this one promise, over all of the centuries I've spent with him, lived with him? I know more about that angel than most people know about themselves. I've seen sides of Dark that would make you cower in fear; that have made _me _cower. And you want to believe his word?"

_What if I were a monster?_

Fearful tears began to fill her eyes. "Krad…I'm sorry, I can't—"

"Yes you can!" he yelled so loudly she jumped. He walked over to her, the snow barely seeming to hinder his graceful strides, and reached for her face again. His glove barely brushed her skin before she jerked away.

"Please, don't."

"Why not? Just pretend that I'm Dark. After all…I am, in a way."

Rika tried. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Dark's tanned fingers trailing their way down her cheek the way they did when he kissed her. She tried to imagine she was back at home, writing in her diary while Dark ran his fingers through her hair.

Krad relished the struggle being played out on her face. He dragged his fingers down her cheek, across her jaw and onto her neck, where he played in the hollow of her throat. Her neck was so tiny, so narrow…he could crush it with a simple squeeze.

Rika started to cry. His fingers weren't warm and gentle like Dark's; they were cold. His words didn't soothe or comfort her; they chilled her. And his grasp kept encircling her neck as if it were a rope. As the tears began to stream faster into the corners of her mouth, Rika stepped backwards.

"Krad, please. Don't."

Krad's eyes flashed. He grabbed her by the throat and half-flew her into the nearest trunk, his wings hissing angrily as he pinned her against the bark. Rika cried out in pain and shut her eyes against the silver speckles dotting her vision. The massive pine shuddered with the impact, making the branches rain snow and pine needles upon them.

"Or what?" he growled. "What are you going to do? Call for Dark? It would be the last thing you ever do."

When air refilled her lungs again, Rika tried to shake her head between his fingers that were pinching her chin.

"D-don't," she sobbed. "Don't hurt him."

"Him? The two of you make me sick. Even now, when your life is in danger, all you can think of is him."

"I—can't—b-breathe!"

Krad loosened his grip, realizing his anger had gotten the best of him. "Then what will it be, Miss Harada? Will you forfeit Dark, or will you accept me?"

Rika opened her eyes and her head was filled with that merciless, gold fire. His narrowed eyes, filled with a beautiful, terrifying fury, burned holes into her very being. Rika's tears were mixed with wordless cries of pain, until she closed her eyes and realized the burning was real. He held a single, white feather to the side of her neck and let the magic set an invisible fire against her pale skin. She screamed, convulsing against the black blossoms that were beginning to flood her veins, filling her with an eroding darkness.

Krad pulled the feather away only when he was convinced he had heard her shrillest scream. Rika crumpled under his fingers, her heavy breathing filling the forest clearing.

"I…" She fought to keep her head upright. "I don't want to hurt either of you. I'm sorry, Krad. If this curse of yours is my doing, I'm sorry. I can tell how much you hurt." Rika faced those gold eyes once more. "So…I'll try. I'm going to try."

Krad threw her into the snow, enjoying the little grunt of pain she made.

"If you think that will be enough, so be it," he said and started to walk away into the woods. "But now you know the consequences that await you otherwise."

By the time Rika found the strength to lift her face from the freezing snow, the angel was gone.

* * *

Back in front of her dresser mirror, Rika gently fingered the faint pink scar that Krad's feather had left on her neck. It was cold to the touch, but then again the rest of her couldn't seem to get warm no matter how close she tried, either.

Krad hadn't taken her far from the ski slopes and after stumbling through the woods for close to an hour, she heard the faint barking of rescue dogs and people shouting. Upon stepping out from the grove, the entire hillside looked as if someone had taken white paint and smoothed it over with one, giant stroke. With a cold shiver, Rika realized the avalanche was no coincidence; it was Krad's doing.

The rest of the afternoon was blurred chaos. A rescue team had swarmed her on sight and took her down to the lodge, where a series of flashing red and blue lights greeted her. She remembered asking for her father at one point, but the paramedics kept trying to quiet her with, "We'll find him," and "Your father's fine, he's going to come with us," but Rika ignored them. The bitter cold was making her sleepy. Several hours later, she was awake in a hospital with her father at her bedside. He'd been unharmed, but the torture of watching the avalanche swallow his daughter and waiting to discover whether or not she was alive had taken its toll; she could see it on his face.

"Rika." He reached for her hand and did something she had never seen him do before. He cried.

The doctors released her later that night after treating her for hypothermia and minor frostbite on her hands. The car ride back home was long and dark and Rika sat curled up in her seat, still cold despite the heated car and seat warmers. Her father was keen on interrogating her; did she want something to eat? Was she warm enough? Did she want something to drink? Was she ok? Did she want to talk?

"I think I just need to sleep, father."

Her mother's embrace was something else Rika was not used to. She watched her mother hug and kiss her father, tears streaming, inaudible words spilling from her mouth. Then she turned to Rika and hugged her so tightly for so long, Rika would've fallen asleep in her arms, save for that she could hardly breathe.

Yet now that she was back in the quiet warmth of her room, Rika found no refuge. She paced the room, climbing in and out of bed several times. She stared at the blemish on her neck for a while, always hoping that it was some trick of the candlelight or if she rubbed it hard enough, it would come off. She tried sitting by the fire and writing in her diary. But after nearly an hour of sitting on the floor with the blank pages open to her, she had written nothing, save for a single blot where a tear had fallen.

The soft rapping at the balcony doors spooked her.

"Rika?"

Even though she knew his voice, she stayed rooted to the floor, waiting with baited breath as the lock began to click and jingle. The door slowly swung open, prompting her to stand. Even though she knew it was him, her mind kept imagining a pair of white boots stepping over the threshold, a magnificent pair of snowy wings dragging in behind him.

The biting wind blew in behind him, tossing his violet locks around that angelic face. When he saw Rika standing by the fireplace looking lost and on the verge of tears, his heart pulled him across the room. Needing to touch her, to assure himself she was real, he brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. Rika closed her eyes and smiled. His touch was warm.

"Are you ok?"

She nodded, shaking loose a few tears that fell over Dark's fingers. He grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, stroking her back with one hand and kissing the top of her head.

"I saw on the news," he spoke into her hair. "I was afraid I wasn't going to find you here. But you're not hurt? You're sure you're ok?"

Rika nodded, clutching onto his black vest as if it were a life raft.

"You're cold, sweetheart." He lifted her chin and the sight of her tear-stained face broke his heart, making his long, black eyelashes wilt around his amethyst eyes. "What's wrong?"

She sniffed and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just so glad to see you." She reached up and brushed one of his longer bangs out of his face.

He suddenly frowned and swept his hand alongside her neck. "What's this?"

Rika clapped her hand over his. "Oh. It's nothing. I burnt myself with the curling iron."

He rested his forehead against hers. "Oh, Rika. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

She smiled. "Why? So you could make fun of me every time I fell on my skis?"

"No!" Rika caught a glimpse of his handsome, almost bashful smile that made her heart flutter. "I should've been there to protect you."

"Dark. Think of what that would do to your reputation. Phantom thief turned guardian angel. You sure you want that?"

He kissed her, smiling the entire time. Rika drank in his warm lips and let her hands crawl up to his neck as her unrelenting coldness melted away. For a brief moment, within the arms of her dark angel, Rika fooled herself into thinking that her miseries had been invented and her pain was a fleeting ordeal that would end with the day.

But it was a brief moment.

* * *

**A/N: Well, the semester starts tomorrow, which means I probably won't have time to finish this for a very long while, but thanks so much for reading you guys! I'm curious to know what you think! I will do my best to revisit this as often as I can and I hope you're enjoying it thus far! =D **


	5. Burning Heart

The clouds were heavy and low, moving fast across the evening sky, reflecting the amber lights of the city below. The small seaside village was silent, wrapped in the still cold of winter, waiting patiently for the oncoming snow. Only the street lamplights guarded the cobblestone roads as vigilant sentinels, casting small halos of light into the frosty, dark air.

A streak of blinding white pierced through the clouds, illuminating them from within as it tore towards the earth. When the streak of light hit the earth, it split into two; one dark, and one light.

"Son of a —!" Dark reached for his shoulder that Krad had been trying to skewer just seconds ago. "Cut it out, Krad!"

A sadistic grin appeared on the other angel's face. "Aw, Dark Mousy doesn't want to play anymore?" A ball of light formed in his palm. "Hmph. Too bad."

Dark narrowly dodged the attack, using his wings to shelter him from the rock debris as the cliff behind him exploded into shrapnel.

Furious, Dark flew at the white angel, yelling into the wind, "What the hell is your problem tonight, Krad? What did I do to you?"

Dark only saw Krad grin before they were lost in a metallic explosion of each other. He reached for Krad's throat, but the other angel snagged his wrist, pulled him close, and released a blazing flare of magic. The bitter cold air screamed past Dark's ears as he careened through the clouded sky, pulling his wings inward to regain control. Krad hovered effortlessly above the quiet waters of the harbor, watching as massive black wings in the distance circled back around for another attack.

Krad grinned again. "You're just too easy, Dark Mousy."

Dark stopped short and made sure to flap his wings hard towards the ocean's surface, spraying his opponent in a cold, hissing mist of salt water. "What's that?"

"You should really learn to keep your guard up. If you let it fall, you could end up hurt." He held up a white feather in front of his face. "Or better yet…someone else might."

Dark didn't even have the time to frown. The white feather was suddenly everywhere; in the wind, beneath his skin, in his lungs. Each fragment seared his body like hot glass and crippled his wings. He thought he felt his heart being ripped out between his ribs, closed his eyes, and the plummeted beneath the water's surface in a roaring white plume.

* * *

Rika's eyes kept floating away from the paperwork in front of her and up towards the vase of pink lilies sitting on the corner of her desk. They had been delivered earlier in the day, not long after Rika had first arrived for her shift at the library. There was no note attached, no message from the postman who delivered them; just a crystal vase with a faint pink ribbon tied around it and blooming lilies that made the air around her smell like sweet springtime.

She smiled to herself for what must've been the hundredth time that day and finished cataloging the last of the library cards.

"Rika? What are you still doing here?"

She turned around in her chair, surprised she hadn't heard the clicking heels of the library manager.

"Oh, Ms. Yumi! I was just finishing up some cards. We had a couple people return books at the very last minute."

The older woman peered over the tops of her glasses, acute lips pointed and drenched in furious red lipstick. "The library closed almost an hour ago. I know what a hard worker you are, but I have to insist that you go home at some point before midnight."

Rika smiled bashfully and started to reach for her brown bag. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting."

"You didn't. But what about the young man who walks you home every night? I'm sure he's wondering what's keeping you."

Rika smiled as a warm blush surfaced to her cheeks. "Probably."

"Was he the one who sent you those flowers?" Ms. Yumi nodded toward the vase. "They're beautiful."

"Yes. It was very kind of him." She stood and slipped her arms through the sleeves of her fur coat, heart racing at the image of Dark waiting patiently for her outside, leaning against one of the Romanesque columns, arms crossed and dark, amethyst eyes turned towards the sky.

"What's the occasion?"

Rika shrugged and laughed a little. "None that I know of. Sometimes he just…does things like this."

"Rika, let me just say," Ms. Yumi put a comforting hand on Rika's shoulder, "that men like that don't come around very often. If you find such a treasure, you should probably keep it."

The young woman smiled. Then, very quietly,

"I intend to."

Ms. Yumi grinned and patted her on the shoulder. "Good girl."

She bid her boss good night and headed for the historic library's main exit. The minute she pushed open one of the massive oak doors, cold, brittle night air flooded her lungs and slapped her nose. She could see the stars dancing in the blue-black sky above, as if they were also shivering in the cold wind. She was about to venture down the fifty or so stone steps that led down onto the main street when a velvety sound drifted through the night.

"Good evening, Miss Harada."

A small gasp escaped her lips and she wheeled around so fast her hair encircled her neck and face. With her heart in her throat, she could hardly breathe.

"Krad?"

The silvery white angel was as stunning in the dark shadows as he was in broad daylight amongst the snow. His golden locks seemed to catch light where there was none and his amber eyes were ever alive with fire, despite the cold.

Rika's blood chilled with the memory of their last encounter, yet she there was a small portion of her that was undeniably captivated by the angel's impeccable beauty, by his dramatic presence that commanded as much respect as it did caution.

"Krad?" She stammered out his name again. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I've come to walk you home." He stepped out from his place in the shadows. Rika remained frozen on the first step.

"Where's Dark?"

A bright fire flashed in the angel's eye, but it was too brief to be anything more than a chance reflection of the moon. "He couldn't be here tonight. His tamer is too ill."

"Daiki?"

Krad nodded slowly, trying to make out the distant look in Rika's eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing…I hope he'll be ok."

A cold wind stirred Krad's white cloak and made his golden blonde bangs flutter around his face. Rika shivered instinctively against the chill.

"Come," Krad started down the steps, moving as gracefully as the wind. "I would not like to keep you waiting in the cold."

Rika hesitated, confused by the gentleness in his voice. She risked eye contact for a brief moment and found such sincere warmth in the angel's gaze, she wondered if she had imagined his cruel, passionate anger back in the mountains. Surely…surely this was not the same angel?

Realizing she had no other choice, Rika stepped forward and walked timidly beside Krad, keeping her eyes focused on the cobblestone path beneath her feet.

"How was your day?" the angel asked calmly.

Rika blinked. "It was….good, thank you."

"I didn't realize you were not only a student, but you also have a job. Your days must be very long."

"They are. But at least they keep me away from the house."

Krad looked sideways at her. "Do you not enjoy being home?"

"I do, but sometimes it gets lonely." Rika caught herself, realizing she had just gone from exchanging pleasantries to exposing a truth she rarely acknowledged herself.

She couldn't see the way Krad's eyes wilted. "Lonely? How so?"

"Father's usually busy with his work. He's almost never home. Neither is mother. She's usually entertaining members of the town council or hosting some social event somewhere. And they have a very strict rule about not allowing anyone in the house while they're gone."

"I see. Though it would seem Dark is the exception to that rule."

Rika tensed upon hearing Dark's name leave Krad's mouth, but there was no bitterness or venom to paint the word. "Yes. But he's never been one for rules."

They rounded another corner and Rika suddenly noticed the freezing fog flowing in from the shoreline; the snow-laden clouds gathering over the city lights.

"You seem troubled," the angel said, his words catching in the silent darkness around them.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here to walk me home so late. It's very kind of you to do this."

"I suppose it would seem so, given our last encounter." Rika almost froze in mid-step. "I could never ask you to forgive me for what I did. You have every right to hate me and be afraid of me…I warranted your distrust, to be sure. But I only ask that you let me apologize. I was angry and hurt, but should never have inflicted my feelings upon you. For this, I am sorry, Rika."

Rika stopped, stunned by the misery she heard in his words. Krad walked a few steps ahead before turning around to look at her with penitent eyes. A single, perfect snowflake passed between them.

"It was you," Rika whispered. "You were the one who sent the flowers."

He nodded. "A small apology, in the very least."

She didn't remember how long she stood there, trying to comprehend what this shameful-eyed, meek angel was saying; long enough for a healthy collection of snowflakes to gather on her eyelashes.

"Krad, I don't hate you." With his face half-hidden behind the tall collar of his white overcoat, he looked so…defeated. Rika moved a few steps closer in an effort to quell the sudden urge to hug and comfort him. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared of you."

"Hm." He closed his eyes and smiled to himself. "I understand."

"But that's not to say that I don't…please don't think that I…that you need to—" Rika fumbled for words while Krad coolly watched her. The snowflakes were growing larger by the second. She sighed, admitting defeat. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Krad chuckled softly and held out a white, gloved hand. "Come on. Before the snow buries us alive."

Rika placed her small hand in his, surprised at how it seemed to connect a direct line of electricity to her heart, where it flipped several times as he closed his fingers over the back of her hand and led her through the curtains of snow.

They finished the walk to Rika's house in silence, listening to the faint _glick glick _patter of snow as it began to blanket the town. Once they were standing by the winged statue out in the courtyard, Krad finally relieved her hand from his.

"Thank you again for walking me home," Rika said, managing a grin as she looked up at the tall angel. "And for the flowers."

"Not at all. If anything, I should be thanking you."

She frowned. "Me? Why?"

"For allowing me this brief second moment with you."

He pressed his gentle, soft lips onto her forehead, each hand cupping either side of her neck. He whispered into her hair, "Sleep well, Miss Harada." By the time she recollected her scattered thoughts and senses, she was standing only in a ghostly halo of his presence.

* * *

The dark hallways were empty and still. The glossy wooden floors reflected even the dim light from the curtains of twilit snow outside. Yet the air seemed to shimmer, emitting angry waves of heat usually reserved for the afternoon sun on a stark black road. Various works of art – sculptures, paintings, jewelry – though lifeless and still, seemed to faintly ring in the energized space of the museum's hallways. A space in which Krad was at ease.

The angel walked calmly through the darkness of the building, hands clenched into fists and lips drawn into a tight line. Over and over, he asked himself the same question, battled the same demons that were clawing at his chest to ruin something, someone. If only he had spared Dark earlier so that he could maim him now.

_Why? _

He swallowed an anguished cry that had been building ever since he left Rika's side.

_Why is it like this? Why must I suffer for this love? _His_ love? Their love…_

The angel's wings flared open, the tips brushing the walls of the hallway. Suddenly, the windows behind him began to explode into shards one by one, decorating the floor with broken glass stars. Krad continued walking, grinning as he heard each window detonate with his footsteps. Summoning a feather from the air, he brought it close to his chest before casting it out into the hallway with an enraged cry. A blue-white blaze cracked the air like thunder, and then erupted into a fiery chaos of light and flame.

With dark eyes like glowing coals of an exhausted fire, Krad watched the space around him burn. He watched his heart burn.

**A/N: Look what I did! I wrote more! ^_^ Not sure I'm completely satisfied with the last bit of this chapter (it seems repetitive to the one earlier where he "kills" an artwork), but you get the idea. Krad is on the verge of seriously hurting someone...**


	6. When Heaven Delivers Hell

The freshly fallen snow was making the walk to school difficult and the blinding sunlight reflecting off all of the miniature crystals wasn't helping, either. Rika watched another puff of air fog in front of her face and almost slipped into an embankment of snow on the side of the road.

_Krad…what are you after? What do you want? I bet no one's bothered to ask you that before._

The books she was carrying nearly fell out of her hands.

_You're not always cruel and violent. Maybe you're just misunderstood. Maybe you need someone….a friend. _

In a futile attempt to warm her face, she buried it in her blue wool scarf and breathed hard.

_Maybe you're just as lonely as I am. _

"Strange."

"I've never seen anything like that."

"What happened?"

As she rounded the corner, she ran into the back of a broad-shouldered, gray-haired man.

"Opf! Sorry, sir!" she apologized quickly.

He smiled at her from behind tiny circular glasses and waved his hands. "No worries, miss. This snow is slick stuff!"

_Sure_, Rika thought cynically. _It was the snow._

It was then she noticed the dark mass of people that were gathered on the street. The thirty or so small steams of breath rising into the cold air reminded her of smoke stacks rising from chimneys. Somewhere in the middle of the throng she could see police cars and a small van that looked like it belonged to a local news station.

"What's everyone doing here?" Rika asked, trying to catch glimpses of –something – between the huddled bodies.

"Apparently something happened at the art museum last night. There's a whole section of it that's burned."

"Burned?"

Rika looked past the crowd, up towards the large, romantic building that housed some of the world's most priceless art. On the third floor was an eerie black stain across the outside of the structure. Coming from inside the black, misshapen holes that used to be windows were small columns of faint smoke; an endless, exhausted breath from the fire. The flames had melted the paint away, revealing the bare skeleton of the building, now ashen and haunting against the pure white of the snow.

Rika felt her heart plummet. "Was anyone inside?"

"No idea. Strange that the whole building didn't burn down, though. Fire crews never even got to it last night."

"So it just extinguished itself?"

The man shrugged. "No one knows. Maybe the snow put it out?"

Rika doubted this. She gently pushed through the throng of people, politely excusing herself when someone didn't move. When she reached the inner ring of people, she caught sight of the news crew. The anchorman was interviewing a short police officer with a mustache.

"…know much about the situation right now," the officer was saying. "We currently have investigators working to piece together what may have happened here last night."

"Officer, this is a very peculiar situation; is there any chance that the phantom thief might have been involved in this?"

"While that's always a possibility, it seems highly unlikely at this point. Phantom thief Dark actually approached us this morning and asked if he could look over the scene…"

Rika turned around and navigated her way back out of the crowd, hurrying towards the back entrance of the museum. Since knowing Dark, she had become infinitely more acquainted with the building, including all of his favorite thieving tricks.

She found a patch of black ice and skidded onto the stoop that was tucked into the back of the building. Throwing down her bag, she fished out a pencil from one of her coat pockets and did her best to imitate Dark's nimble finger work on the locked door. What would've taken him only seconds took her closer to five minutes, but she eventually heard the satisfying "click" and felt the bolt give way.

With her mind in such a blurry haze, she didn't remember how exactly she got to the third floor, but she would never forget the image that greeted her when she got there.

A poisonous, bitter fume hung in the air. She could feel the ashes coat the inside of her lungs when she breathed in. Shattered glass lay scattered on the pitch-black floor. The walls were scorched, what looked like ragged fabric hung from the scarred ceiling, and piles of white-gray ashes were piled everywhere.

Death. Rika suddenly imagined that this was what death looked like.

Somewhere down the hallway came the sound of crunching glass. She squinted at the gray haze until the dark figure took a more angelic form.

"Dark!"

"Rika?" He was in his black trench coat and heavy lace-up boots, with only the silver buckles on his coat and the iridescent purple shimmer in his wings to break up the uniform black. Dark's eyes widened, letting what light there was illuminate the violet in them. "What are you doing here?"

Rika almost dashed to where he was standing and hugged him so tightly she almost knocked him over.

"Hmpf! Rika?" He wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, petting her glossy brown locks with one of his fingerless-gloved hands. "Rika, sweetheart, you shouldn't be here. The building is dangerous like this."

She took a deep breath of his scent and pulled away. "They said you were here trying to figure out what happened. I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm fine. I wasn't even here last—Rika, you're bleeding!"

Rika looked down at her hands, where Dark's eyes had fixated on a decent gash on her palm.

"Oh. I didn't even realize…I must've cut it when I grabbed the handrail outside to keep myself from falling."

Dark patted his trench coat and pant pockets, an almost panicked look in his eyes. "Damn, I don't have any bandages on me, either."

"It's all right," Rika unwound the scarf around her neck and started to dab the wound. "It'll heal on its own. It's not even that deep, see?"

"No, don't ruin your scarf." The pitiful, half-hearted remark made Rika smile.

"Scarves can always be replaced, Dark."

"I know…but this was my favorite one you wore."

Grinning, he put his forehead against hers and they stayed quiet for a moment. After losing herself in a small moment of bliss, Rika opened her eyes to the ruined scene around her.

"What happened?"

Dark released her and turned around to survey the wrecked hallway again. "At first, I thought it was just kids vandalizing the place." His eyes strayed off into the distance.

"At first?"

"But it's too neatly done. Just the hallway was burned, nothing else. And look," he pointed out something in a glass case next to the wall. "All the artwork was left untouched."

Rika walked over to the display case. Smoke had filmed over the glass, but inside was a beautiful jeweled necklace, glittering and unscathed.

"So then…do you think…?"

Dark nodded. "Krad."

Rika folded her arms and hugged them tight to her chest, suddenly feeling very cold. "You're sure?"

"I'm almost positive this is his doing."

Rika stood frozen next to a pile of ashes; her eyes lost a thousand miles away. "But why?" she whispered.

"Why?" Dark's tone turned harsh. "Because he's a raging psychopath and he enjoys doing things like this. To him, it's fun. The bastard."

A dark, sinking weight was slowly dragging Rika's stomach to her heels. "Dark?" The angel turned to look at her. "Is Daiki feeling better?"

"What?"

"Daiki. I heard he was ill last night."

"Daiki's fine." She saw the suspicion rise in his gaze. When he spoke again, she hardly recognized his voice. "Who told you that?"

Without warning, the ceiling above them exploded, raining ash and debris and snow throughout the hallway. Dark was on top of Rika before she even realized what was going on, sheltering her with his massive wingspan. A wooden beam fell across his back and Rika, crushed to his chest, heard him stifle a pained grunt.

"Dark! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he muttered between clenched teeth. When the chaos around them subsided, they stood up in a cloud of soot; a filthy background for the silhouette standing before them.

A thousand well versed curses flashes through Dark's mouth, but he was never given the chance to voice any of them.

"You lied."

Dark turned to look at his beloved, hurt to see such dismay painted on her pretty face.

"Not entirely," Krad said, face as cold as stone. "Both Dark Mousy and his tamer were, in fact, indisposed last night."

"Yeah, no thanks to you!" Dark yelled. "You beat the living daylights out of us until we were at the bottom of the harbor! Just what in the hell are you up to, Krad?"

"Nothing," Rika said, hating the way her voice was trembling as badly as her legs. She'd never heard Dark yell before. "He just walked me home from work last night. That's all."

"Yeah, and he nearly killed me so he could!"

Krad looked at his rival calmly. "Would you have let me do so otherwise?"

"You stay away from her! If you ever come near her again—!"

"Dark, please," Rika raised her voice above them. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."

"Not this time." She could see the fury reigning through Dark's pulsing veins, the somber black he was wearing spread to his eyes. "This time he chose to go after me and then sabotage a building. Nothing good can come of you, Krad! The past 500 years with you have taught me that. You're not about to change now."

It was then Rika saw the true meaning of the word 'hate' in Krad's face. Nothing could've been more terrifying, more murderous. "How would you know?"

"Look around you, Krad. You're up to the same ol' tricks. You lie, you destroy, and you kill."

Krad's voice was so low, Rika barely heard him. "And what's to say you won't do the same, Dark Mousy? You would do the anything to protect her."

Dark shouted furiously, "Because I love her!"

"As do I!"

Krad's roar seemed to shake the very air around them. Rika trembled in its silent aftermath, feeling as though her chest were suddenly full of tiny holes. Looking over at Dark, she noticed his eyes were shuddering in disbelief.

Krad, though more composed, seemed just as displeased by this as the dark angel. His searing eyes never left his counterpart's. "We are not as separate as you think we are. Or as much as I would like to be." His next words were softer, almost sorrowful. "Since when did you think we could have lives outside of each other's?"

Dark's toxic tone electrified the air again. "You're lying again. Since when did it become possible for you to love someone, Krad? There's not a compassionate bone in your entire body."

"Dark."

Both angels turned their attention to the pale-faced girl standing in the background. Her large eyes, lost and confused, danced between their faces, and then she took a deep, unsteady breath. "I don't think he's lying."

Dark blinked and was about to step towards her when Krad's forbidding voice sliced between them.

"Why are you bleeding?"

Rika saw Krad staring at her injured hand, a wicked suspicion written on his face.

"It's nothing. I cut myself on the rail outside," Rika tried to explain, but she could sense that she had just inadvertently condemned both her and Dark. Krad's menacing gaze slid over to Dark.

"I didn't do it, Krad!" Dark wheeled on the other angel, making sure his stance came between Krad and Rika. "I would never hurt her!"

A single tear slid down Rika's cheek. From across the room, she could sense the presence of the cruel demon that had once cornered her on the mountainside. Gripped in a terrifying realization that she was again at the mercy of his sadistic impulses, that Dark was undoubtedly prepared to protect her at the cost of himself, Rika held her breath and waited for heaven to deliver hell.

Krad's lips bent in a cracked grin. "You're lying again."

"Krad! NO!"

* * *

**A/N: Yes! So much awesome! I am a happy writer =D**


	7. Guardian Angel

The woods were hushed and still, locked within a frozen and dark winter's night. The black silhouettes of the trees were stark against the moonlit snow and their branches were glistening with icicles, prisoners within their own prisms of glass. From the bare canopy above they kept vigil over the motionless, quiet earth below. Even the angel seemed part of the landscape, for his wings were so long and white, it was difficult to tell where they ended and the snow began.

His eyes were no longer burning with gold, but rather were heavy and cold, as if winter's touch had not exempt even heaven's most celestial being. He walked silently and slowly, each graceful step hardly leaving a print in the snow, never looking up to see where his path was leading him. Even covered in snow, he had walked this trail too many times to forget where it lay. And each time he hated it more than the last.

He pressed on beneath the watchful vigilance of the frozen forest until the trees began to give way to more open space. A white meadow glistened in the moonlight, dotted with what looked like oddly shaped rocks that were two or three feet tall. Krad stopped at the edge of the clearing and finally looked up. For the briefest of moments, he felt his heart fight against the inside of his chest and his fingers twitched in an effort to stem tears that had not seen the light of day for centuries. Taking a few steps forward, he neared one of the rocks, eyeing it almost cautiously from behind his golden bangs. Etched into the stone was a simply entry:

Shiro Tanaka

1686-1690

Krad took a step back and lifted his gaze to the rest of the tombstones in the clearing. There were hundreds of them.

"I hate this." The choked words came through clenched teeth. "I hate this. I hate you. Dark." His hands balled into fists. "My other half. If only they knew…yet it would seem that the two of you give me no other choice."

The angel grabbed his long ponytail and pulled it around, reaching for the metallic cross that hung at its end. Swiftly removing it from his hair, he smiled bitterly at the artifact and almost laughed to himself. "Perhaps if I take as much joy in this as you once did…perhaps then, I will truly be your other half." 

* * *

**A/N: Talk about dusting off the writing pen. Just a quick snippet to let you know I am reviving this story. omgyay.  
I also deeply apologize about the unforgivable hiatus I took from this...I HATE when authors do that. HATE. So no hard feelings if you hate, too. ^_-**


	8. Thief

The candle was playing with light and shadow upon her chest, where her delicate fingers trailed the strange scar splayed across her skin. It had been nearly two months since her encounter with Krad and Dark. She'd seen the scar several times a day every day since then, but still couldn't resist touching the silver, vein-like pattern that spread across her chest and onto the back of her shoulder. Dark had professed thousands of apologies, even tears, as he blamed himself for her wound, but Rika insisted that she remembered nothing, not even pain. There was only light and Dark's scream, which haunted her more than anything else.

A soft rapping at the balcony door made her flinch. She stood up, grabbed the sweater hanging off of the edge of her bed and threw it over her head before walking over to the tall window panes, through which she could see his outline. Rika slowly turned the handle and opened the door for him. Cool air rushed over her skin and an instinctive smile began to tug at her lips. She blinked a few times, realizing he wasn't in his usual black attire. He was in a pair of slim-fitting gray jeans and a collared white shirt, with a rope necklace hanging over his collarbone. Dark smiled back at her.

"Hello, love." He raised a hand to her face, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes. "And how are you this evening?"

Rika could only meekly smile in return. Sensing her apprehension, Dark moved in closer and grabbed her hands firmly within his. "Rika, are you sure this is what you want? Is this what we're doing? For sure?"

"…I worry about Daiki," she mumbled. "I worry that we're stealing his life from him."

"Rika, he's fine, I promise." He ran a hand through his violet locks, smiling out the side of his mouth a little. "Heh, he's more pissed that we haven't left already, to tell the truth."

Rika grinned a little again, then turned away and walked back over to her desk and began fumbling through the drawers.

"But we're not about to do something you don't want to."

She took out a small yellow envelope with the words "mother" and "father" written in perfect cursive script on the front. She thoughtfully ran her fingers over the corners and edges before gently placing it on the top of her desk. "What choice do we have?"

Her voice was so quiet, Dark almost wondered if he had heard her at all.

"Rika, I told you. Daiki and I could find a way to separa—"

"No." She shot him a worried look. "The only reason you exist is because of Daiki. Without being bound to him or his lineage, you disappear. Besides…the magic that brought you here...no one knows how to wield such power anymore. Not even the Hikari."

Dark crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, a small smirk on his face. "Since when did you become such an expert in all things ancient and magical?"

She laughed a little; a sound that allowed Dark's shoulders to relax. "Daiki and I have been doing some research. You were asleep."

Dark looked up out of the corner of his eye, as if talking to some fly on the wall. "Thanks pal. Looks like you and I are stuck together forever."

Rika smiled. Slowly, deliberately she walked towards him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close. She tried to put names to the ambience of scents that filled her mind; something of cold wind, spice, and the smoky scent of a candle that has just been extinguished.

"You do realize that Krad will still be wherever we go," Dark leaned down to whisper into her ear. "He's not something we can escape."

"Remember when you asked me if I would still love you if you were a monster?" Dark nodded. "Even if Krad is that monster, I still cannot imagine leaving your side. But this place…I do want to leave this place."

With her face buried in his shirt, Rika could only hear a soft rustling as black wings encircled them. Dark's smile, however…she could always see and feel his smile. It was in the way he breathed, the way he gently tightened his grip around her waist, the way he made sure that outer feather always managed to tickle her neck.

"Well then…" he said. "Shall we?"

* * *

"My God."

The woman collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, her hand clasped over her mouth in horror as she read her daughter's note. Her husband, a tall and lean man dressed sharply in a brown suit and tie, paced the hardwood floors with furrowed brows. Night had long since fallen, but only a few candles were lit in the grand dining hall of their home, so shadows were allowed to trespass wherever they pleased.

"I can't believe she'd do something like this," he mumbled. "It's not like her."

"With that Phantom Thief." His wife looked up at him, tears visibly wobbling before they fell. "How could she? Hideaki, we have to do something! She's too young—what if something happens to her?!"

"Relax, Mayu. We'll call the police and file a missing persons report."

"The police? They're not going to do anything if they find out she left of her own accord."

"Then don't tell them she did."

The couple looked up from each other to find Shinji standing in the hallway with a grim look on the half of his face that was lit by candlelight. The other half was barely discernible in the dark.

Hideaki frowned and turned to face the butler of his household. "What do you mean, Shinji?"

The elderly man slowly shuffled towards the table where Mayu was sitting. "The only way you're going to get the police to cooperate in getting Rika back is to convince them that she was actually kidnapped. So we get rid of this evidence—" he picked up the envelope addressed to "mother" and "father" and held it over a candle flame. The paper ignited instantly. "And we make our own."

"That's preposterous!" Mayu stood up. "What evidence do we have?"

"We make it look like a struggle occurred in her bedroom. Overturn the sheets, knock over a chair or two. And for the final touch—" he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a single, solitary black feather, twirling it between his knobby knuckles. The parents exchanged nervous glances. Sensing their apprehension, Shinji added, "This does, of course, depend on how desperately you want your daughter returned to you. On my own behalf, Rika is very near and dear to my heart. As you said, Mrs. Harada, she's too young yet to know the difference between the life she deserves and the life she thinks she wants. The Phantom Thief is exactly that – a thief – and has no doubt filled her mind with fantasies and illusions of the world he could give her. She belongs here. She belongs home."

Tears began falling down Mayu's face again. Her husband watched her grieve for a few brief seconds, then glanced back at Shinji, whose somber expression remain unchanged. Hideaki took a deep breath before walking over to the phone on the wall. With a stern face, he unhinged the ear piece, rotated the round dial of numbers on the wall and waited only two short seconds before he was greeted on the other end of the line.

"Yes, this is Mr. Hideaki Harada. My daughter has been kidnapped."


End file.
